Chapter 17 #2
Eric cleared his throat. ‘Molly dear, be careful with what you’re asking. It sounds awfully like you’re accusing me of doing something wrong.’
I took a deep breath. ‘Sorry, that wasn’t my intention.’ I thought carefully about what he’d said and decided he’d been hinting at something. ‘Okay, putting my situation to one side for a moment, theoretically, what sort of thing could trigger a snap inspection of this kind?’
There was a short pause. ‘That’s an interesting question. Of course you could consult the Association’s handbook, but I’m happy to talk you through it now, if you would prefer.’
‘That would be helpful. As a responsible canal boat owner moored on the Oxford Canal, it’s important to me to have a full understanding of the rules and regulations of the water.’ I was beginning to get the hang of how he wanted me to play this game.
‘Absolutely. You’re a sensible woman, Molly.
The guidelines are very clear. When a boater signs a contract for their mooring, their credentials are scrutinised at that stage.
Further inspections of documentation and boat can be carried out if there are reasonable grounds for believing the terms and conditions of the mooring are not being adhered to. ’
‘And what kind of thing would constitute reasonable grounds? Speaking hypothetically, of course,’ I said.
‘Speaking hypothetically? The scenario which comes to my mind is if the Association were to receive a report claiming a boater was not fulfilling the terms of their occupation. For example, a suggestion that they’d switched to a continuous cruiser licence without informing the relevant authorities, namely the Oxford Boating Association.
Obviously if we were to have someone permanently moored who didn’t have permission to do so, we would have to act immediately.
We would issue a week’s notice to move on, unless there were extenuating circumstances such as illness of course. ’
‘But I don’t need extenuating circumstances because I have the proper licence.’
‘And once you’ve proved that in the inspection, plus a few other minor little details have been cleared up, then I’m sure everything will be fine,’ said Eric. I didn’t find his statement reassuring.
‘What other little details are you talking about?’ I asked.
‘Health and safety. The usual red tape.’
‘What particular aspect of health and safety?’
‘Electrical safety. Pipe cleanliness. Appropriateness of bathroom facilities for events. That kind of thing.’
I started to feel sick. The Oxford Bookship was immaculate; she had to be.
I was meticulous when it came to keeping the boat’s services in good condition, and the only issue I’d had was the disappearance of the power cable, which had been beyond my control.
I filled up my water tanks using a series of pipes which I connected to the mains supply managed by the Oxford Boating Association, and I kept those pipes pristine.
I tested the quality of the water every other week, not because I had to, but because I cared about keeping on top of these things.
There was always a chance Nana Rose would come for a visit, and I wanted to be in a position where she could look at the Oxford Bookship and know she’d done the right thing by allowing me to buy it from her.
I was outraged someone would even suggest I didn’t care enough to keep on top of these things.
‘When will this inspection take place?’
‘The thing with a spot inspection is that there isn’t any notice about it,’ replied Eric.
‘If that’s the case, how come I received a warning letter?’
He cleared his throat again. ‘A warning letter? Are you sure you received it? I know when I was living aboard full time, it was amazing how many leaflets I’d find stuck under my door when I returned to the boat. Most of them were junk.’
He was being far from subtle, and I felt a deep appreciation for the risk he’d taken in giving me an advance warning.
He’d aspired to be chairman of the Association for many years before he finally was awarded the role.
If his colleagues were to find out he’d tipped me off, he could lose his position.
I was touched he’d gone to such lengths to help me.
I wasn’t under any illusion I’d earned it on my own merit, but I was grateful his loyalty to my grandmother had proved beneficial to me.
‘You know, you’re right. I wish all these takeaway places would stop spamming me with all their leaflets. The best place for them is the recycling. As long as they stay in there without Hilda ripping them to shreds, of course.’
‘It would be a shame if that happened,’ said Eric solemnly. His voice suddenly changed. ‘Thanks for your call, but I’m afraid I’m not interested in changing our broadband provider at the moment.’ Somebody else had obviously come into hearing distance.
‘Not to worry, it’s been good to talk to you. Do give us a call if you fancy a great deal,’ I said quickly playing my part.
As soon as I hung up, I ripped up the note and then looked around for a place to hide it.
Just how thorough was this inspection going to be?
I didn’t want to leave it somewhere where it could be discovered, even if it was shredded.
I stuffed the tiny pieces into my pocket and turned my attention to the biggest problem of all.
What had triggered this inspection? I shook my head.
Or should I be asking myself who had triggered it?
Jack had told me himself that he was pally with the Association.
What if this was part of his scheme to take over my mooring?